


Solas Prompts

by bexorz



Category: Dragon Age, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: F/M, Gen, Solas - Freeform, Solavellan, ace solas
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-12-13
Updated: 2014-12-15
Packaged: 2018-03-01 07:54:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 4,171
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2765504
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bexorz/pseuds/bexorz
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Prompts filled on my tumblr regarding Solas, or his relationship with Inquisitor Lavellan. Spoilers, probably. Some fics are female gendered but I'm trying to write more gender nonspecific fics.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Tea and Lies

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Solas drinking tea, for grimsolas.tumblr

 

Upon entering his space in the tower, Solas discovered that his vhenan had left him the gift that she had been threatening to give him for weeks. A small clay jar sat on his table, along with a teapot and a clay mug, delicate designs of no particular origin painted on its surface. A note was pinned underneath the jar. Lifting it, he picked up the note and read it.

_Try me. I’m delicious._

Inquisitor Lavellan was being succinct, but he did not need an explanation for the contents. It was tea. They had discussed the subject at length, and she had made it clear that, in her opinion, he was being rather closed-minded about the subject. There were, after all, many kinds of tea. It was her firm belief that he had only to find the right kind of tea.

This put him in an awkward position. There were bigger concerns that must be dealt with, but this… this one thing, this little thing, he knew was important to her, and an easy way to make her happy.

 _My Keeper taught me about ingredients that can be used for herbal tea, and I made my own blend. It won’t make you feel edgy or keep you awake_ , she had said.

He had long ago given up any desire to try different variations of “bitter and unpalatable”. There was not a single leaf nor root in all of Thedas that could produce a tonic he could sit and enjoy.

Solas sat down with a sigh and replaced the jar on the table, pursing his lips and glaring at it. Her intentions were good. It was a thing she wanted to share with him, but the existence of tea at all felt like a personal insult.

She had forced his hand, and left him with limited options. He could toss it away and lie, or he could drink it and lie. If he tossed it, and told her that he drank it all, she would not believe him. If he drank it and told her that he liked it, then she would give him more. If he drank it and told her that he did not like it, she might be inclined to adjust the recipe and ask him to try again.

Lifting the lid of the jar, Solas sniffed the contents. She had done this for him, he must remember.

He filled the teapot with water, and tossed in a small handful of the loose leaves. Replacing the lid, he sat down and held out a hand to add a little fire magic to the liquid and heat it up. He would drink it. It was unlikely that he would enjoy it, but he would drink it. If he didn’t like it, he would just tell her so.

He owed her at least that much honesty. There were already too many lies.


	2. Trust

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Solas and Lavellan "I Trust You" for anonymous

The air was sweet as she stepped out into a large field. Loose flower petals and dandelion fluff drifted past her on a light breeze, and she smiled to herself. This was a beautiful place that he had brought her to. She tucked stray wisps of hair behind her ear—they were tickling her face—and turned her smile to him as he appeared next to her.

“Where are we?”

Solas’s cheeks dimpled as he gave her a soft grin. “Not too deep in the Fade. This place is familiar to me.” He reached out to take her hand, and pointed ahead of them. “It is a village not unlike the one where I grew up.”

In the distance, she could see the outline of houses, and a low wall, and what looked like a Chantry. It was the outline of a typical small settlement. She perked up, and squeezed his hand. “This is where you’re from?”

Soft lips pursed for a moment, and he shook his head a fraction. “No, but it is similar.” He stepped forward, giving her hand a gentle tug to pull her along after him. “Come.”

“I’m extremely curious now,” she said, picking up the pace to stay with him as he raced ahead.

There was no answer, but she could feel the presence of spirits on the periphery, and guessed that they were curious as well. Curious about the two mages who traipsed across their space, or were they perhaps friends of his?

“You shall have to wait and see!”

“Solas…” She let go of his hand and stopped.

The older man stopped when she did, and turned to look at her. She would have thought that he would be startled at her sudden reticence, but she could see no sign of that emotion on his face. “I am sorry. If you do not wish to—“

“Oh, I do want to explore.” She stepped up to him and took his wrist, tracing the lines in his palm with one finger. “But I… are we safe where we’re going? I can sense spirits nearby. I don’t want to disturb them.”

“I have been here many times. I assure you, you will be safe.”

She nodded. “All right, I trust you.”

Something flickered across his face at her casual comment, something that she could not identify. He brought her hand to his lips and kissed it. “This way.”

They were off once more, and though she was glad for his company, she had the nagging feeling that his thoughts were no longer in the moment.

 

\---

 

Things were very different in the Fade, the way that Solas showed them to her. Dreams were one thing, and when they had visited the ghostly echo of Haven it had seemed as real as waking life. She seemed to be getting a better grasp on what the Fade  _felt_  like, but she could not be sure it wasn’t all in her imagination. Perhaps it was the new location, something unfamiliar and untainted by her expectations or preconceptions. She had come into this place knowing it was the Fade, knowing it wasn’t real.

As he had said before, however, that was a matter of debate.

For now it was real enough, despite the misting around the edges, and how a building or a tree might be out of focus no matter how hard she looked at it. Sometimes an object might be there one moment, flicker out, and then return the next. It was unsettling, but she could see that Solas was at his ease with no trace of concern, and that was all the assurance she needed of their safety.

Entering the small village, the two of them walked hand in hand toward the center, where an old fountain sat alone and crumbling—but sometimes it was intact; empty of water—but sometimes it was full and bubbling.

“This is amazing, Solas,” Lavellan said, letting go of his hand to sit on the edge of the stone. She ran her fingers over its surface, marveling at the shifting textures. “It’s whole yet broken at the same time.”

“Indeed,” he said, sitting beside her. “There is a plurality to the Fade, many stories, many emotions existing at once.” He lifted a hand to gesture at the houses flanking the fountain square. “These, too, are not always the same. In Haven, your own memory helped solidify the Fade around us, but here it is fluid.”

“Is the Fade shaping itself, or is it spirits that do it?”

Solas tilted his head, and smiled at her. “Both, and neither. It is complicated.”

He looked about to say something else, when his eyes flicked to the side, and his smile grew. “Vhenan. We have visitors.” On his feet again, he said, “My friends.”

She stood, following his lead, and saw where he looked. Between two buildings stood an amorphous entity, and just like other things around them it was difficult to focus on. There was another one—another spirit—in the window of a house that was now crumbling, now intact, now on fire. It was a bizarre shift, but the spirit remained stationary.

Then in the next moment the spirits were with them, and Solas was greeting them with a bow and friendly words in Elvhen. She bowed as well, but remained silent, a bit unsure how one should address people who were not truly… people. It all seemed quite serious for a minute as Solas introduced her to them, until one of the spirits revealed that it had an amazing sense of humor.

It was not long before Lavellan was on the ground, holding her aching belly, breathless from laughing at the unending stream of jokes she had never heard before.

“I’ll have to save that one for Varric!” she managed to gasp between chuckles. “By the Dread Wolf, I wish he could meet you. But, being a dwarf—“

The other spirit, which had been for the most part quiet, appeared beside her. “Dread Wolf?” Its voice was airy and light in her ears, though she could see no mouth in its soft, shining face. It turned its head to look at Solas. “Fen’harel—“

Solas stiffened and let out a loud cough. “Not even the Dread Wolf could help a dwarf dream his way here, I’m afraid.” A grin crossed his face, though to her it looked forced.

What was wrong? Would invoking the Dread Wolf’s name in the Fade conjure him up? That was a scary thought, Lavellan decided.

“Well, perhaps we should go, that way my memory will be better and I can share the humor with him. Varric, I mean,” she said.

Solas inclined his head to her, then to the spirits. “My friends, it has been good to see you. May we meet again soon.”

In a moment, the spirits were gone, and she wondered at how they seemed to disappear and walk away at the same time. A place of pluralities, indeed. It would take some getting used to, but she had Solas. He had promised to show her these things, and she was sure that they would return.

“Thank you for bringing me.” She squeezed his hand.

“You are quite welcome,” Solas said. He put a finger under her chin and lifted her face. “I wish—“

Instead of finishing what he was going to say, he kissed her instead, leaving her wondering.


	3. Protective

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: One of Lavellan's companions being protective in an older sibling way. I chose Cassandra. Theoretical "Kiyaru Lavellan" who is not actually one of my Inquisitors.

Everyone could see the way that Kiyaru Lavellan looked at Solas. She was young, too young to have been given such a huge responsibility as she had, although she was in her mid-twenties. She had only accompanied her clan’s First at the last minute because she had wanted to see more of the world, and even though two Dalish together would draw more attention, it was also the safer way to travel. It was such a long, long way to Haven from the Free Marches. In addition, their First had needed her help communicating with other people. Bishal was deaf, and Dalish sign language was completely different from human sign language.

A moot point now. Bishal was dead, gone with all the others.

In the wake of her grief at his loss, and the trauma of what had happened at the Conclave, she had latched onto Solas as a mentor. At first it had been the familiarity of another elven mage, despite the gulf of difference between their two cultural identities, but as she’d gotten to know him as a person she’d begun to fall in love. They didn’t always agree, but she generally respected his opinion.

And boy did he have nice lips, so great for kissing!

It was over dinner one evening when Cassandra noticed that the googly-eyed look in Kiyaru’s eyes had become rather more pronounced than it had been the last time she’d seen it. Solas was not present, and the Inquisitor’s mind must have been wherever he was.

Something had to be done.

“Please excuse me, Inquisitor,” the warrior said. She wiped her mouth and tossed her napkin to the table, leaving the dining hall to find Solas.

The elf was at work as usual with his murals in the tower. It always astounded Cassandra how he managed to never get paint on himself from his work. He took so little care with his appearance that she would have assumed he would be careless in that regard as well.

“Solas,” she said.

The elf turned his bald head around, arm still raised with paintbrush, and raised an eyebrow. “Yes?”

Cassandra folded her arms. “I must speak with you. It is important.”

Solas licked his lips and set the brush down. “How may I help you?”

“I know what’s going on.”

“What?”

“I have seen the way that Inquisitor Lavellan looks at you. I have seen the way you look at her,” Cassandra said.

“I assure you, I—“

“I am not interested in excuses, and I am not here to tell you who you can and can’t spend time with. All I’m interested in is ensuring that nothing happens to our Inquisitor if I can help it.”

Solas opened his mouth to speak. “I—“

Cassandra held up a hand. “Stop. All I need from you is a promise that you will treat her with respect and not do anything to jeopardize her well-being. Is that clear?”

“You leave no room for misinterpretation.”

“Well… good then.” Cassandra cleared her throat. “Carry on.”

Solas gave her a respectful bow.

Turning sharply on her heel, Cassandra stalked out of the room, somewhat embarrassed at getting involved in someone else’s personal matter, but feeling that it had been necessary nonetheless.


	4. Invitation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lavellan inviting Solas to the ball at the Winter Palace, for Anonymous.

Inquisitor Lavellan had taken note when she had overheard Solas and Blackwall speaking of Val Royeaux the other day, though she had not joined in the conversation. After their comments about the place, and Solas mentioning his visit in the Fade when it was just a smelly market, she had thought about it a great deal. The trip to the Winter Palace in Halamshiral was imminent, the grand ball looming like a monolith of dread in her calendar. She’d heard plenty of the term “knife-ear” in her travels outside of her clan, but it had been the loudest in the noble quarters of Orlais. If they were willing to say that sort of thing right in front of her, what were they saying about her behind closed doors?

It would not have bothered her if she weren’t expected to play nice and be political. Leliana could talk about how exciting and intriguing the Game was all she liked, Lavellan wasn’t going to buy it. The woman was human, after all, she didn’t have to worry about the stares and the snickers and the curled lips.

When considering who she would take with her, there was no question as to whether she would ask Solas. In the first place—ignoring her completely selfish desire to have him around all the time—she didn’t want to be the only elf in the party. He wasn’t Dalish, but at least he didn’t hate other elves like Sera did.

Second, if she ever needed to tell anyone off, he would have great ammunition from the past on Orlais’ humble origins. Perhaps he could help her get dirt on people’s ancient past to sling in someone’s face the next time they called her a filthy savage.

Maybe her reasons for wanting him there were personal and petty, but at the end of the day his intelligence and knowledge would be an asset when playing the Game.

“Solas,” she said, striding into the tower room with purpose in every step. “I need to speak with you.”

“Yes, Inquisitor?” Solas slipped a feather into the book he was reading to mark his place and closed it, giving her his full attention.

She stopped. Perhaps her tone had been Commanding and Official, which caused him to call her Inquisitor instead of—

Clearing her throat, she spoke in a more even tone. “Ah, yes. I need to ask if you’ll accompany me—us—to Halamshiral.”

“It would be an honor.” He smiled, and the warmth in his smile put her at ease.

“Oh. I didn’t think you’d want to go. You don’t mind?”

“Certainly not.”

“Good, then I will make the final arrangements.” She turned to leave again, but stopped when he reached out to take her hand.

Standing from his seat, Solas bent to kiss her hand. “I look forward to it.”

When he let go of her hand, Lavellan darted in to steal a better kiss, before she gave him a wide grin and made a quick escape. If she didn’t leave right away, she’d get distracted and not get anything done.


	5. Cake and Kisses

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Solas and Lavellan sharing a dessert, for tehjaydeck.tumblr

With all the drama behind them, Lavellan was forced to stay for the party afterwards. Josephine assured her that it was important, that she needed to make a good impression to assure that the Inquisition would have allies—or at least peripheral support—from the Orlesian gentry, but it was so tiresome. The only good part about it was the food.

Cake in hand, she excused herself from a group of hangers on, sending them in Cullen’s direction, and went off in search of Solas.

"Come quickly," she said, tugging on his sleeve. She gave him no chance to reply before she let go and slipped off into an alcove.

"Lethallin, what—" Solas’s eyes went wide as she shoved a chunk of cake into his mouth, silencing him. He put a hand over his mouth as he chewed, irritation warring with amusement in his eyes.

Lavellan licked the frosting from her fingers, smirking. “You said something about the cakes.”

Solas shook his head, and snatched the dessert from her grasp. “It is only fair that I take my turn.”

"Fine," the Inquisitor smiled and opened her mouth.

"Close your eyes."

She obeyed, and gasped as his mouth was suddenly on hers. This was almost better than cake, which she could still taste on his tongue as they kissed.

The cake disappeared in-between kisses, and it took them a minute to clean themselves off before they rejoined the party.


	6. Painting

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Solas teaches Lavellan to paint, for anonymous.

“What you’ve done in here is amazing, Solas,” Lavellan said, putting their hands on their hips and staring around at his murals. They were impressed with the color and the shapes, and somehow the imagery had a power that they could feel deep in their bones. It was as if he had imbued his work with the weight of memories from the Fade.

Though perhaps that was just their imagination dancing around with their infatuation with him.

“I am pleased that you think so,” Solas said.

Lavellan walked up to the nearest wall and leaned in to peer closer at the painting. “I’ve never done painting on this scale before.”

“Oh?” Solas stepped up behind them and put his hands on their waist, planting a quick kiss on the side of their neck. “Well, in the first place, I would recommend that you take a few steps back. This scale meant to be taken from a distance and not up close.”

Lavellan smirked and pulled away from him. “I see.” They moved away and stared up at Solas’s representation of the Fade. “Would you teach me how to paint?”

“If you wish to paint a mural such as this, we will have to start out smaller.”

Nodding, Lavellan said, “I would rather paint something a normal size.”

“Come, vhenan.” Solas waved a hand for them to follow, and led them to the corner of the room where he kept his painting things. “I happen to have a canvas here that we can use.”

“You haven’t been waiting for me to ask, have you?” Lavellan laughed.

“Well… not specifically that,” Solas said. “I wanted to paint something for you, as a token, but it will be much more enjoyable to paint it with you.”

Tickled, Lavellan reached out to grab a paintbrush from a pile of them off to one side. “This will be fun, I can tell.”

“I do expect so, yes.” Solas grinned, and went on to begin teaching the Inquisitor about color theory.

Several hours later, the two of them were laughing together, covered in bits of paint as they sat on the floor with the disaster of a painting they’d created lying on the stones between them. It might not have been a representation of fine elven art, but it was a perfect representation of their enjoyable evening together. There were matching paint smears on each of their cheeks from when Lavellan had stolen kisses in-between Solas’s lectures.

“I am sorry, I do not think I have taught you properly,” Solas said, pursing his lips and regarding the canvas critically.

Lavellan laughed. “I don’t care. As long as you’re here.” They grinned and bumped shoulders with the other elf.

"For as long as I’m here," Solas murmured.

"Hmm?"

"Oh, nothing."


	7. Undressed

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Solas helps Lavellan out of their armor after they fall asleep at their desk

It had been a wearying day for everyone. They had returned from their latest excursion in the Hinterlands, and had had to fend off a band of rogue templars on the way. That was never anyone’s favorite thing to do, and they had all returned to Skyhold with frayed nerves and exhausted bodies. Inquisitor Lavellan was the worse for it, because as soon as they came in through the front gates, a political situation was dumped at their feet.

A group of Orlesian nobles had arrived while the party had been gone, and had fallen to bickering amongst themselves. There were old offenses and grievances which had been exacerbated by perceived favors granted by the Inquisition. The specifics didn’t matter, not as much as it mattered that the Inquisitor had been expected to handle the situation. This had kept them busy for hours when they just wanted to strip out of their armor and collapse in bed. Possibly with time for a bath, but they were desperate enough that it didn’t matter.

Instead, after smoothing things over with the upper class fools, the Inquisitor was stuck at their desk for a time, signing papers that Josephine had written up to make them official. They had fallen asleep like that, crumpled over, dark circles under their eyes, dirty bangs falling in their face.

That was how Solas found Lavellan. As many times as he had gone to sleep in places that were not conventionally considered to be comfortable, he understood what it felt like to sleep in one’s armor. He knew that the Inquisitor was not going to get a good night’s sleep in such a fashion.

With a sigh, and a shake of his head, Solas approached the Inquisitor and gently lifted them in his strong arms. He settled their arms around his neck and began the long trek up the stairs to their bedroom. It was late enough that fortunately there were not many people around, as he would not want to be seen with them like this. Not that it was an embarrassment, but his close relationship with them was no one’s business but theirs, and he liked to keep it that way.

Once the exhausting climb was over and they were in Lavellan’s tower suite, Solas gently laid them down on their bed and planted a kiss on their forehead. He rubbed a hand across his mouth as Lavellan moaned in their sleep, a distressed look on their face. Sleeping in armor was not going to be comfortable, and he wanted to help, but he did not want to wake them. Would they be upset when they woke up to find that he had stripped them?

No, he would not strip them, not completely. He was not going to invade their privacy, even though they had slept together naked in this very bed.

With a gentle kiss on Lavellan’s forehead, Solas turned them over, nimble fingers working at buckles and clasps to undo their breastplate. The only reaction he got out of the other elf was a noise which was halfway between a groan and a whimper.

“I am sorry that your task is so difficult,” Solas whispered, laying them back down and brushing the hair from their eyes.

As quietly as he could, he set the first piece of armor down, and then started with the next. Manipulating their limbs carefully, he managed to remove their boots, their greaves, their gauntlets, and their breeches. He left them in their underthings.

Once there was a pile of armor and grimy clothes in the corner, he tucked Lavellan under the covers, and sat on the edge of the bed watching them for a few minutes.

Lavellan’s fingers flexed slowly. “Solas…” A soft noise, barely audible.

Solas swallowed, his heart suddenly aching in his chest, a desperate feeling swelling inside him. “Vhenan?” he murmured.

“Hmm.” Lavellan was not waking.

Solas sighed, and leaned over to place his lips on theirs, a soft ghost of a kiss. He would leave them be to sleep the rest of the night in peace.

He got up, closed the balcony doors to keep out the cold mountain air, and left.


End file.
